


One on One

by ddagent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, F/M, Romance, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Suitor Jaime Lannister invites contestant Brienne Tarth for a romantic dinner and a private dance lesson on 'Game of Hearts'. Brienne hopes this might be her ticket home, but finds more than she expected.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 70
Kudos: 341





	One on One

**Author's Note:**

> remuslovestonks prompted: "I’m a contestant on The Bachelor, and I’m probably the only one who doesn’t want to win it because I think you are annoying, but dammit, you keep choosing me, no matter what I do."
> 
> So, I know I literally wrote the opposite of this last night, but I wasn’t 100% happy with 'Game of Hearts' and I have realised why. From now on, I’m going to tackle my prompts differently. Each prompt will be written as if this is the only thing I’ll write in this AU (although I will not rule out follow-ups). Basically, I want to write a snippet of something that feels complete rather than the opening to something that has yet to begin. Here we go; let me know what you think. Happy reading!

“Ladies, I hope you have all had a _wonderful_ daydancing with our _incredible_ instructor, Ellaria Sand,” _Game of Hearts_ host, Oberyn Martell, said, addressing the remaining eight women in the competition. “And now, our suitor will choose just one of you to enjoy a private dance lesson, and a romantic dinner for two. Jaime?”

Jaime Lannister, this year’s suitor, stepped forward. A charming smile graced his mouth. “Ladies, I wish I could dance with _all_ of you. But I can only choose one.” A deliberately tantalising pause. “Brienne? Will you dance with me?” 

All eight contestants looked disappointed. Of course, Brienne Tarth was not _supposed_ to look that way. She was supposed to be ecstatic that this gorgeous man had chosen _her_ for a one-on-one date. But she had never been very good at hiding her emotions; her feelings were as plain as her face, especially compared to the rest of the contestants. She did manage to summon up a slight shrug, and say, “Sure.” 

“CUT!”

A small figure pushed his way through the line of cameras. The executive producer of _Game of Hearts,_ Tyrion Lannister, hung his head. “Brienne, could we _please_ get a _little_ more excitement from you? This is the most eligible bachelor in all of Westeros, and you’re acting as if he has just asked you directions to the nearest museum rather than ask you for a _magical_ one-on-one date!”

Brienne raised a single eyebrow in his direction, as unimpressed by the younger Lannister as she was by his handsome older brother. Surprisingly, Jaime came to her rescue. “It’s fine, Tyrion. Let’s just move on, shall we?” 

Tyrion relented, and suddenly the crew sprung to life; this part of the show now complete. The other contestants, including lingerie model Margaery Tyrell, were ushered off-set by producers; no doubt to get that all-important soundbite. _I can’t believe Brienne got the one-on-one date again. He’s just being nice to the ugly girl before he sends her home. Seriously, why hasn’t he sent her home yet? She’s a joke._ They weren’t allowed phones on set, or to see the aired episodes, but Brienne knew. In her heart, she knew. She bet Jaime knew, too. 

“Why?” Brienne asked him before they were led off to their ‘date’. Fingers wrapped around the curve of his elbow, she stared down into wildfire green eyes. “You chose me for the third time. _Why_?” 

“I like spending time with you.”

Brienne snorted. “Everyone here knows you’ll pick Margaery in the end. Seven Hells, everyone knows it’ll be Margaery and Melara, _maybe_ Taena in the final. Not me. So why bother?” 

“Honestly?” Another snort. Nothing about this show was _honest,_ including their suitor. He was all charm; no substance. One of the main reasons why Brienne disliked spending time with him. “I like the way you flush when you get annoyed. I like your scowl – _yes,_ that one right there – when I pick you. What can I say, Brienne Tarth? I like it when you’re mad.” 

“Piss off.”

“Can’t,” he said, grinning as he looped his arm with her own. “We’ve got a _romantic date_ to enjoy, remember?”

Brienne sighed, drawing a laugh from Jaime Lannister as they were guided off-set to their ‘date’. She expected to be thrust into wardrobe and make-up; her face painted and body stuffed into an unflattering dress. But, instead, both were ushered into a limousine. Their journey was short, yet dull; the camera operator in the backseat bored with no flirtation, no banter which could be exploited on-screen. It made Brienne all the surer that she would be going home this week. 

Yet, when they arrived, it was not at a dance studio, but a botanical garden. The camera tracked them through plants and flowers before Brienne and Jaime reached a clearing. A slight man stood in the centre. He carried a wooden sword; two similar blades at his feet. 

For the first time all competition, Brienne grinned. “Water dancing.” 

“I had to promise Tyrion a whole bunch of things, but it’ll be worth it,” Jaime said, eyes alight at the prospect of fighting with a sword. “You know, when I was a boy, all I wanted to be was a knight of the realm.”

She beamed. “Me too.” 

As they revelled in the prospect of fighting with _actual_ swords, their eyes met, and they shared a look. Warmth, understanding, _honesty._ In her surprise, Brienne quickly broke it, turning to address their sword master rather than face the depths she found in Jaime’s gaze. “What will you be showing us today?” 

_Game of Hearts_ had hired the best sword master in all of Braavos. Syrio Forel was a skilled teacher, and Brienne tried to hide her thrill as he complimented both her and Jaime on their technique. As the cameras watched, they went through a multitude of different positions. But the producers (well, _Tyrion_ ) were not happy. There was no heat. No Jaime with his arms wrapped around her adjusting her form; no flirtatious energy as Brienne complimented the firmness of his sword. Yet it was the most fun Brienne had had all competition. And the most fun Jaime had had, either, judging from the power of his smile. 

“Let’s have a bout,” he suddenly announced, ignoring the manic handwaving of his brother. “Feel like you’re up to the challenge?” 

“Of course.” She had been fighting with sticks, wrapping paper tubes, and then actual swords all her life. She tapped her wooden blade against his. “If you think you can keep up.”

Another laugh. Rich, decadent; it stirred something in Brienne. She quickly pushed it down as Jaime’s smile reeled her closer. “Let’s make it interesting, then. If you win, I’ll send you home.” More manic hand waving. “If _I_ win, then I get to kiss you. A full-blown, romantic kiss. The kinds of which songs will be sung.” 

She shrugged. “Sure.” 

“Eager to kiss me, are we?”

Brienne laughed this time. “Just eager to get home.” 

“Well, the music’s still playing. Might I have this dance, my lady?”

Swords raised, cameras trained, and the blows came. The clatter of wood against wood as the pair moved across the cobbled stones; darting blows and blocking others. Jaime was good. _Very_ good. Put him in armour, and he’d be like something out of one of the old stories. But Brienne was good, too. Sweat started to bead across his forehead as they danced; Brienne pushing forward to win her ticket home. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Jaime proffered, as their wooden blades slid against each other. “Am I such a terrible prospect to spend time with that you are _desperate_ to go home?”

“You’re… _fine_ , I guess _._ ” Brienne elbowed his side, sending him back a few paces. He grinned. “But you’re not who I signed on to meet.”

A knowing look crossed over Jaime’s face. “ _Ah.”_

It was her father who had sent in the application. When Brienne had found out that she had been entered – and accepted – she’d wanted to withdraw. That was when the producers had informed her that this year’s suitor would be musician Renly Baratheon, Brienne’s childhood crush. She had _immediately_ signed the contract, only for Renly to drop out two months later after coming out as gay. Jaime Lannister had been brought in as a last-minute replacement, and Brienne had immediately found him wanting compared to the soft, sweet star of her youth. 

“Do you _really_ think you would get on better with _him_ than me?” Their swords clashed again; Jaime’s words cutting deeper than his blade.

“Do you _really_ think I don’t know why I’ve been kept on this long?” Her wooden sword slashed through the air. “I’m a joke. Keeping the ugly girl around as a soft target for the others to pick on; to show the public that you aren’t as shallow as everyone thinks you are.” She paused. “Just let me go home.” 

“You haven’t won yet.” 

Brienne’s blade hit the soft meat of Jaime’s hand, knocking his sword to the floor and causing her suitor to gasp in pain. As she stood, waiting to be immediately sent home, Jaime Lannister surged forward. His good hand slid against the curve of her neck, and his head tilted upwards to catch her lips with his. Brienne immediately pulled away. 

“What are you doing?”

“Cheating.” 

Jaime took her face in his hands. Reaching up on his toes, he pressed his lips to hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was the first kiss of the competition; she would later be told. The first time Jaime had really shown _any_ romantic interest in the ladies. But at that moment, with Jaime’s lips on hers, the competition was all forgotten. Few things remained. The pressure of his mouth. The slightly sweet taste of his lips. The clatter of her wooden sword on the stones. And the feel of the fabric of his shirt as it crumpled in her grasp. 

As she closed her eyes and let Jaime deepen their kiss, Brienne agreed that one more week couldn’t hurt. 


End file.
